Raining Blood
by JapaneseAnimeFreak16
Summary: Roy remembered very clearly how he felt when his best friend had died - was killed, murdered, executed, silenced. They all meant the same thing, right?


**Author's Note: **Okay, if you guys have read my other story I'm revising, I'm sorry! I couldn't help myself! This story possessed me and wrote itself with my fingers, I swear! I'm almost halfway done with the second chapter! And for those of you who don't know what the cheese-nuggets I'm talking about, well, no worries, hehe. This is officially my first Fullmetal Alchemist/Brotherhood fanfic – yes, I know, way too many Roy angsting over Maes's death but I couldn't help it! – and I am surprised at how dark it is lol I LOVE Roy Mustang (I named my laptop Colonel Roy Mustang ^.^) and Maes is close to being second so making a fic about them is perfectly normal. **SPOILER START** I love them both dearly and I cried in both the original FMA and Brotherhood when Maes died I was NOT a happy camper. **SPOILER END **Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

**Warning: **HEAVY ANGST. Like, heavier than an elephant on top of a whale, heavy. Yeah, that bad. I've written a few angsty pieces but THIS takes the cake :P Roy/Maes brother/best friend bond – not yaoi even though this is one of my fave couples – and some spoilers for Brotherhood. Mild cursing and, once again, ANGST!

**Rating: M** for safety – this is some dark stuff O.O

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA or FMA Brotherhood. This is just for fun – though it kinda scared me ^.^; and other peoples enjoyment.

**Summary: **Roy remembered very clearly how he felt when his best friend had died.

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><p>Roy remembered very clearly how he felt when his best friend had died.<p>

Was killed.

Murdered.

Executed.

Silenced.

First, there was the shock – he remembered vividly that if felt like someone had literally punched him in the stomach and choked the breath from his lungs. It was impossible to breathe let alone think or speak because, _God, _how many times a day did someone inform that you're your _best friend_ and precious comrade was _killed?_

Then the denial – so many agonizing minutes and hours and days of disbelief and terror – bled into shock, leaving a sort of defiant horror in the hollow of where his heart had practically stopped beating. There would always, _always_ be that anxious voice in the back of his mind, tinged with hysteria, that completely denied it, made up excuses why Hughes wasn't there hugging and gushing and being himself – denied the fact that _Maes _was _dead._

Then the burning anger came rushing through his veins, like molten lava, hotter and more staggeringly intense that any flame he'd ever conjured. The feeling was murderous, bloodthirsty, _unholy and desperate, _and it honestly scared Roy when he'd finally gotten his head on straight again. It was targeted at anything, _anything _to find a way out, some sort of relief but it never came; it just became concentrated like his sparks that ignited his mighty explosions. He blamed anyone and everyone for Maes' death – for not stopping him, for not talking to him for a few more minutes, for not starting the train earlier, for not backing him up, for not – but it was pointless and all he had left to blame was himself; and Maes, a vicious voice in the back of his mind hissed, anger and betrayal and raw pain leaving a ragged, festering hole in his chest.

But the feeling didn't dissolve, it just slid behind the smooth mask – it never cracked, not once, _never –_ of cool indifference he was used to wearing, the cold façade that everyone was used to seeing – but he knew, he fucking _knew_ that the malicious need for revenge, for _retribution_, had already drenched and stained his scarred soul. All that hate and darkness seeped into the holes and tears where their broken promise had torn into – shredded apart and unsalvageable.

Self-loathing followed closely, immersing itself among all the other dark, volatile emotions bubbling in his chest and crawling under his skin. Blaming himself, shame so burning and guilt so heavy that it crushed his mind into near insanity, it was almost too much. That voice again, the voice that made everything worse and warped and more twisted than they needed to be had focused his disgust in himself to look away from the idea of taking his own life – _coward_ it screeched in the deafening, sunken silence – and towards another alternative.

Human transmutation.

Oh, it crossed his mind more than once. It dominated every string of his thoughts and filled the spaces of his imagination for _days_ – so many possibilities especially with a Philosophers Stone. He would have done it. He would have done the transmutation even when he knew it wouldn't work and maybe he'd just die anyway – _fucking coward_ – but it never happened.

A small glimmer of sanity, a part of his mind reminded him that he'd made a promise to his best friend to become President to make a better world, had stayed his hand from drawing the circle. That thought barely kept him together but it was enough. His hands stopped shaking, the pounding in his head had lessened, and his world became a bit more focused again.

Just because Maes broke his promise didn't mean Roy had to do the same.

His shoulders straightened in a renewed but still ragged determination, tired but unwilling to cease. His subordinates – comrades, friends, allies – saw it and supported him with strong, unyielding hands until he was standing on his own two feet again. He had a goal to keep, a promise to follow through on and though the vengeance hadn't dissipated in the slightest – a bloodthirsty beast raging against its prison, roaring and snarling with its teeth bared and its eyes alight with an unhallowed, demonic odium – he now knew to use that to help him. Instead of being his crutch, it became a stepping-stone to a better future.

But after everything, after fighting and almost killing Envy – he was so, _so_ close and the bastard was right there and _screaming_ and about to _burn and die_ – and helping the Elric brothers save the nations, he was left with a hollow, numbing grief and regret that ate him from the inside out. Was this his retribution for his actions in Ishval? To take away the only thing that kept him sane _– mommy, help me, I'm so sorry, oh god it burns, stay away, I'm sorry, don't touch her, I'm so sorry, make it stop, I can't stop, please, MAKE IT STOP _– while he committed mass murder?

"Hey Maes…"

In the end, he could only move forward – and never look back because if he looked back he would stop and he _couldn't stop_ anymore, he needed to keep moving, for his friend, for their half-broken promise – and make sure that he always kept his best friend alive in his memory.

"It's raining."

He couldn't tell if it really was raining – there were too many tears.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> See, pretty dark stuff, huh? Or is it my imagination? IDK, I'm not really that experienced in the heavy angst area :P I don't really know where this piece came from but I liked how it turned out. It seems kind of weird and rushed with a bunch of run on sentences but those are basically his thoughts running together, at least that's how I wrote them as, take them as you will. Reviews are appreciated :D


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